


Super-short Kink Meme Fills

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Based on PR prompts and requests [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Attentive Hermann, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drift Bond, Friendship, Frottage, Height Differences, Height Kink, Hermann is a Good Boyfriend, Hickeys, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Solo, Marking, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Newt is a short little bunny and Hermann loves it, Newt is accident-prone, Newt whump, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Pet Play, Possessive Hermann, Puppy Play, Team as Family, Top Newt, Trans Newt is in ch 13, Trans Newton Geiszler, Xenophilia, cuddle buddies, filthy kaiju fantasies, non-sexual pants-wetting, puppy Newt, showering together, this tag reserved for future use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fills for the PR kink meme that fit in one post. Anything that I write that I consider too short to really be its own thing will be a chapter here. I'm assuming that the focus is always going to be on Newt and/or Hermann (mostly together, but there's a solo ficlet already)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hickey

Newt always expected Hermann to be kind of dismissive of his more dedicated and less-scientifically-minded fans. Dub them 'Kaiju Groupie Groupies' or something and roll his eyes about the fact that they even existed.

When a group of coeds who weren't studying any kind of science showed up to their latest joint lecture to scream and fawn over Newt like he was a real bona fide rock star, he just figured Hermann would be unimpressed.

For one, Hermann liked to keep their not-so-professional relationship quiet, and for another, he didn't think the guy really did 'jealous'.

Well, Newt was a big enough man to admit when he was wrong. Hermann totally did 'jealous'. Hermann did 'possessive', actually, he did 'possessive' very well.

Hermann had glared daggers at every attractive lecture attendee to ask for Newt's autograph afterwards, and if looks could kill, they'd have to apologize to the family of the girl who asked Newt to sign her breasts for sure.

"Dude, less teeth!" Newt yelped, as Hermann proceeded to strip him and start in on his throat in the privacy of their hotel room. "You're getting really worked up."

"She wanted you to write on her bosoms!" Hermann growls.

Growls.

It shouldn't have been so sexy.

"I didn't do it!"

"Not the point."

And then Hermann went back to his neck, and Newt realized the teeth were on purpose, and not out of anger.

Hermann was marking him.

Which he should have put a stop to, because keeping things kind of a secret had been Hermann's idea, and a giant-ass hickey was the opposite of professional, but it was hot as hell and Newt kind of wanted it.

It was there the next day when they both had to appear again at the same university. Newt knew from that morning how visible it was, too, big and reddish purple over the top of his shirt collar, and there was no pretending it was anything other than what it was.

Hermann fussed and apologized, and even offered to lend him a scarf, which it was so too warm for.

"You made this bed, Hermann, your turn to lie in it." He chuckled, because it would be kind of nice to be publicly claimed... he never minded the idea of people knowing about them, after all, and it was still a surprise to see how possessive Hermann was when he'd been the secretive one. "Unless you want me to say one of my many, many groupies left this baby for me?"

That did the trick a little better than he'd intended, since the hotel room door was already open, the two of them halfway out into the hall when Hermann grabbed him into a hard kiss that he was pretty sure several people witnessed...

But in his book, it was all a win.


	2. Cloaca

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haha if TF2 hadn't left me with basically no shame, this might embarrass me... 
> 
> Solo Newt with a very interesting toy.

It was probably totally inaccurate, made based on a combination of guesswork and fantasy, and Newt didn't even CARE.

The second he got that inconspicuous brown package in his hands, he was locking himself in the bedroom.

Okay, it wasn't totally a guilt-free purchase. For starters, it was kind of an expensive one, considering his budget-- and his habit of forgetting all about his budget any time there was a concert he really, really wanted to see. Newt wasn't great at fiscal planning.

Plus, he knew it was just kind of weird. It was one thing to say 'Hey, those Hardship sneakers look pretty cool', it was totally another thing to say 'Hey, I bet it would be pretty great to get to fuck one'.

It didn't even matter. He just wanted to try it. He played his purple UV laser over it and then turned out the lights, admiring the 'bioluminescence' that had been built into it as he gave himself a little hand and a lot of lube.

"You're Godzilla." He whispered to himself. Fantasy time. This was about to get a million times better than puberty had been. "King of the Monsters, baby. And this magnificent she-beast has just risen from your ocean... Go time, baby."

He pumped himself harder, then held the base of his cock, not yet ready to line himself up. No, he wasn't there yet. The story had to play out. He'd wade out into the water, curious-- on guard, about this new creature in his territory. And then he'd pick up on it, the sharp scent of a receptive female... Which, for his purposes, was going to have to be played by the scent of his own sweat starting to gather, but beggars and choosers.

She'd turn away and lift her tail, rump elevated in a clear invitation, and that's when he'd take his rightful place at the top of Monster Island's mating hierarchy, sliding his cock inch by inch into the embrace of her dripping wet cloaca, feeling the slow slide of every ridge and bump along the way...

Oh yeah. It was good to be the king.

Once he had a feel for her, a few slow thrusts into the sleeve in his fist, he started pumping faster. That's just how she'd want it, wouldn't want him taking all day, she would want to mate others too. Diversify the gene pool. It was just his place as the strongest to mate her first, and most frequently. He'd assert his place on the mating chain if he had to, maybe some dominance-humping of any other monsters vying for her attention.

"You're such a kinky fucker..." He groaned, but the thought was addictive. Orga railing her while he showed Baragon who was boss, maybe get Ghidorah in on things, the guy had three heads, he could put at least one of them to good use at the Monster Island Orgy.

But that would come later, when the scents and sounds of their mating drew in the other monsters. For now, for now he was the only city-stomping king of the kaiju around, and she was his and his alone, her cloaca tightening around him in a desperate attempt to wring his orgasm from him. She had eggs that needed fertilizing and this was the best way to get the job done.

He squeezed his cock through the sleeve and humped into his fist, and the glow in the dark lines and dots along the sides were losing their glow, but he wasn't exactly going to stop and break out the UV laser again, he was close, so close...

With a cry that had his downstairs neighbors banging on the ceiling, Newt came hard, sliding free of the sleeve with a satisfyingly slick squishing sound.

Worth. Every. Penny.


	3. Oh Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Newt is always gushing about Hermann being a perfect boyfriend and how happy they are together and everyone is generally just like "yeah, okay Newt we accept your creative definitions of those terms".
> 
> But then someone is allowed to see Newt and Hermann in a really intimate moment (I'm thinking Newt injuries himself in the lab or something and one of his PPDC coworkers has to drop him off at home where Hermann is waiting) and becomes privy to a different side of Hermann that is really attentive and affectionate and there's a big aha moment about their relationship.

It doesn't take long for Raleigh to decide that Newt Geiszler is prone to... he won't call them 'delusions', no, but definitely romantic flights of fancy, because the guy he talks about may have Dr. Gottlieb's name and general physical description, but there's no way that Gottlieb is the dream boyfriend that Newt describes.

He's gotten to know the duo pretty well since Operation Pitfall, after all. They've been part of the core group that's had to handle victory tours and talks and interviews and all that. And not facing the end of the world barely improves the prickly physicist.

And then one day, Newt wanders in late to a 'team meeting'-- AKA 'Tendo provides donuts in exchange for the chance to assess everyone's mental well-being-- and he's jumpy and bruised, and Raleigh almost lands on his ass because he'd been in the quickest path between the two scientists.

He's surprised that Gottlieb could even move that fast.

"Liebling, what happened?!" He ushers Newt into a chair, stroking his hair and removing his glasses, gently prodding at the bruise on his cheek.

"Nothing. I was just at the little newsstand, and there was, like, a kerfuffle?"

"Newton..." It's chiding, but gentle, and there are kisses to Newt's hairline, Gottlieb's hands fluttering everywhere. There are a couple of cuts across the back of one hand, and he kisses those as well.

"I wasn't in a fight or anything, I just got a rack of postcards knocked onto me and one of the postcard-holding, you know, wire prong things? Hit my face. And I fell over, and I got papercuts, but the kind you get from, like, cardstock, and I looked stupid and I landed on a magazine rack and it fell over... I was just clumsy. It's nothing."

"Shh, shh..." Dr. Gottlieb fusses a little longer, before replacing Newt's glasses and kissing his nose. "Liebling, hush. You look-- There, you'll be all right."

He snatches the box of donuts out from under Herc's hand to make sure that Newt gets first pick of them after his rough morning, smiling indulgently down at him and kissing his hair again.

"I still feel silly." Newt shakes his head, blushing.

"Nonsense. There, you eat. I'll go and get you a coffee-- no arguments!" Hermann puts the box back, and the coffee is just across the little meeting room anyway, close enough that he can hang his cane over the back of a chair, commandeering the one beside Newt's instead of the one he'd been in before. He moves confidently even without it, for that short distance, returning with two well-sugared coffees and passing Newt the one with a splash of milk. "Here you go, liebling. And if you think it looks bad tonight, we'll eat in. I'll make dumplings."

He takes Newt's chin a moment, and he looks like a totally different person. His face is softer, and warmer, and Newt gazes up with an adoration that no longer seems weird and misplaced.

"I'd like that." Newt agrees, and the two don't break apart until Tendo coughs loudly for attention.


	4. Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> After the Breach is closed, Newt and Hermann kiss for the first time. They take things back to one of their rooms for privacy, and things are getting awfully serious until Hermann tries to take Newt's pants off and Newt pushes him away.
> 
> Hermann tries to figure out what he's done wrong so he doesn't make the same mistake in the future, and after a lot of pressing, he gets Newt to admit that he MIGHT have kind of pissed his pants while running from Otachi. Like. A lot. And Newt is TERRIFIED that Hermann's going to laugh at him or scowl and call him disgusting, but instead, Hermann kisses him and they shower together. Whether this is innocent washing or it turns into shower sexytimes is up to the filler.
> 
>  
> 
> (I stuck to innocent washing, because I am into co-showering as a form of non-sexual intimacy. Also because Hermann's shower is the shower I desperately wish I had...)

The kiss happens hard and fast, in a rush of euphoria, because the clock's been stopped for good and they've seen inside each other... Hermann knows that Newt has saved every letter they ever wrote each other on an external hard drive covered in space-themed stickers, and Newt knows the feeling of panic born of love that sat in Hermann's chest when he'd found him bleeding and seizing on the floor of the lab.

They head to Hermann's room, their hands roaming everywhere and the kisses continuing on, until Hermann's hand slips to the front of Newt's jeans, and Newt pushes him away.

"Too fast?"

Newt is red-faced and looks on the verge of something-- tears, panic, Hermann can't tell.

"Newton?" He presses, reaching for Newt's shoulders instead.

Newt's lip trembles, he shakes his head, but Hermann is a steady, silent presence that he can't keep quiet before. He's never known how to keep quiet.

"I might have pissed myself when the roof got torn off the shelter. And again when Otachi's baby ate Chau. And some more when it tried to eat me." He admits, flinching.

Hermann leans in and kisses his forehead. "I have a shower."

Newt's never been more relieved in his life, which he realizes is all kinds of fucked up considering he just avoided being eaten by kaiju and prevented the whole world from suffering the same. But he'd been sure that Hermann was going to push him away, kick him out, maybe laugh, and a shower has never sounded so good.

'I have a shower' was a huge understatement on Hermann's part, Newt sees that immediately. There's no door, just an opening in the shower wall, and it could easily take two people-- it had two showerheads, one of them detachable, and a bench as well as a bar to hang onto.

"The cane comes with some perks." Hermann shrugs, voice wry.

Newt isn't sure if he's allowed to make a joke, too, when his disability has never been physical, so he just nods and lets Hermann undress him completely. He sits on the bench and lets Hermann wash him as well, basking in the affection that comes through with each careful touch. There's dirt and blood in the soapy water that swirls down the drain, and by the time it's over, Newt feels cleaner than he's felt in days.

"Can I?" He asks, motioning to the detachable showerhead, and Hermann nods, letting him return the favor, and he's just as careful once he's entrusted with the job of bathing Hermann, his first exploration of Hermann's body innocent.

Later, they'll go back to that heated, euphoric clash of lips, and it will lead to a heated, euphoric clash of bodies, but now, he feels so comfortable, and tender, and tired. He has nothing to put on after their shower, but that's fine, because he'll be happy to sleep naked in Hermann's arms.

Hermann kisses him again, as they towel each other dry, slow this time, and he finds a pair of sweatpants that don't quite fit either of them, but that Newt can at least wear, and a too-big sweater he'll be able to throw on for the walk to his own room, when the time comes.

But that will wait, everything can wait. First, there is a soft bed, a pillow that smells like Hermann's shampoo and Hermann's sweat, and arms to wrap around him. For now, there is a world that exists for them alone, peaceful and quiet and soft.


	5. Fun-Sized Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> So, as it turns out, Newt wears shoes with very, very thick soles. And after he and Hermann reach the "having sex" part of their relationship, the next morning, when Newt is wandering around Hermann's apartment, lacking his special shoes and wearing nothing but an (ugly) burrowed sweatervest, Hermann is struck with the sudden realization that Newt isn't just short, he's tiny.
> 
> And, frankly, he's very pleased by this discovery.

When Hermann finally gets out of the bedroom after his regimen of stretches, Newt is making coffee, standing in Hermann's little kitchenette in nothing but his glasses and a stolen sweater that doesn't quite hide the curve of his ass.

It's the most beautiful sight Hermann can imagine, narrowly beating out a Julia set fractal and Newt last night wearing nothing at all-- he thinks the coffee is probably what pushes it over the edge, although the flash of ass he gets when Newt reaches to grab mugs doesn't hurt things, and his hair is still wild from being tugged into disarray during a series of kisses, from spending the night on Hermann's pillow, being petted at and played with...

He moves to wrap his arms around the other man and realizes that Newt is... an inch and a half shorter than previously estimated? It's not exact, although Hermann thinks he could be exact, given the right amount of caffeine and several opportunities to embrace Newt both with and without shoes.

"Newton..." He purrs in Newt's ear. "Mmm, trying to surprise me with coffee?"

"Trying to!" Newt leans back into him a little, grinning, and a little mutual craning of necks allows for a quick kiss to pass between them.

"You... are very cute." Hermann accuses, poking Newt's ribs. He can't quite rest his chin on the top of Newt's head comfortably, but it's such a close thing. "So cute, Newton, that I intend to keep you in my arms all day."

"I'll take that deal." Newt turns around to cuddle in close, buries his nose against Hermann's neck and makes himself just small enough...

Just small enough to be the most adorable thing imaginable. Hermann wants to wrap him up in a blanket and kiss him and never stop. He wants to watch Newt reach for things on high shelves whilst wearing nothing more than an oversized shirt.

He's just so...

"Cute and little..."

Hermann only realizes he's said that part out loud when Newt pulls away with a pout folding his arms.

"You know, that is not exactly what a guy dreams of hearing the morning after he fucks you."

"Oh, Newton." Hermann slides an arm back around him, inching the stolen sweater up with creeping fingers. "Newton. Haschen. You are more than adequate where it matters for that. Believe me. But... I like having you so short. It makes me feel like I can wrap you up and take care of you. It's a nice feeling to have, when I'm tired of hearing about how I should expect to rely on others to care for me... And besides, I like you in a shirt that's almost long enough to be modest. And I like leaning on your shoulder while you make coffee."

"... Okay. For you, I can handle being cute and short." Newt lets out a sigh, wrapping Hermann's arms around his waist as he turns to busy himself with fixing their coffee. "As long as you like having cute, short guys top you sometimes."

"All the time." Hermann grins, nipping at the shell of Newt's ear.

"Then I'm as cute and short as you want me to be."


	6. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Hermann is touch-starved and Newt is ALL for casual touching, pushing, prodding and poking.
> 
> Maybe Newt notices that Hermann tends to freeze up when he's touched but thinks Hermann just has to stop being such a priss and get used to it. But he slowly realises that it's not that Hermann doesn't like it, just has no idea what to do when it happens.
> 
> (set somewhere shortly after they cancel the apocalypse, but before they leave the 'dome, I think. Hermann's gone a long time without seeing his more sympathetic family members)

"Dude, just get used to it." Newt rolls his eyes, and he expects Hermann to snipe back. He stops short when it doesn't happen.

"I don't know how." Hermann admits softly, and they're words Newt never expected to hear out of him in any circumstance, but it's particularly heartbreaking in this one.

"Seriously?"

"It's been a long time since anyone's cared to touch me."

"Dude. Dude. I know you don't come from a touchy-feely clan, but dude. There is nowhere you need to be today. Come with me."

He takes Hermann's hand, and Hermann can't form any real protest. He merely follows to Newt's room.

"Bare essentials time, man. Strip down to the stuff you're comfortable lounging in." He orders, stripping out of his own unnecessary things-- no tie, no jewelry save one leather cuff, no shoes and no belt. After a moment, he shrugs out of his button-down shirt, climbing into his bunk in just jeans, socks, and a plain white tee, and placing his glasses on his nightstand.

"Wh-what? Newton, what is the meaning of this exercise?" Hermann sputters.

"Uh, you're going to get used to being touched. C'mon. You can trust me. These hands will stay above the equator, you have my word."

Hermann snorts, but he sheds a couple of layers until he's wearing no more than Newt is, moving to lie on his side next to the other man, and using Newt's leg to prop up his own.

"I feel ridiculous."

"It'll pass."

"I'm a grown man." He frowns.

"Yup. Grown men can cuddle. You need this, Hermann. Touching is good. It encourages relaxation, bonding, and feelings of happiness. Reduces stress. It's good stuff. Trust me, I'm a scientist."

Hermann actually laughs at that, and Newt grins, wrapping an arm around his middle and snuggling into his chest.

"Just hold me." He encourages, letting out a warm sigh as Hermann does.

Hermann is stiff for a long time, as if he's afraid that relaxing his arm around Newt will have disastrous consequences, but eventually he loosens, letting out a sigh of his own.

"What else?" Hermann asks, after a while.

"Dunno. What else do you need to get used to?"

"All of it."

"Okay. Do you trust me?"

Hermann nods. Newt kisses his cheek, laughing softly at the look of surprise.

"You said you trusted me. Don't worry. No sex stuff-- I mean, unless you specifically ask, it's not like I'm opposed, but this is just about simple affection."

"R-right. You aren't? Opposed. With me."

"No. But I think it'd be something for another day..."

"We will talk about it another day, then. But... I am not opposed. To-- to being kissed, I mean. And to talking about other things, on another day."

Newt smiles, and it crinkles around his eyes, making Hermann smile in turn. The next kiss brushes his lips, just barely, but as Newt had promised, it is simply affection. They continue to come, soft and dry and so brief, but eventually, Hermann is able to return them before they disappear, or to lean forward again to meet Newt's cheek.

They explore the way their hands fit together, fingers interlacing, and the way it feels to play with each other's hair. And then, they discover the perfect way to fit against each other, and let their breathing slow in time for a comfortable sleep.


	7. You're (No) Good For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-slash, while the program is in full swing.
> 
> Prompt:  
> Newton and Hermann do nothing but loudly disagree on almost everything on every field, but when they're separated to work in different groups they become absolutely impossible to work with, borderline useless, because they're complaining all the time how even the annoying parts of other's habits are more tolerable than anyone elses.
> 
> In short, Hermann and Nweton should ever be separated, because that makes them both pretty much useless individuals. They only work good as a team.

They seek each other out and fight in the hallways whenever they aren't in their own respective labs, until at a loss, the marshal makes the call.

Geiszler is relocated-- there are samples coming in at another Shatterdome's lab, and he'll be of the most use there. Gottlieb can work anywhere.

Except, suddenly, Gottlieb can't.

In fact, he's more irritable than ever. He starts going after the other physicists and mathematicians, he starts snapping at everyone in J-tech, he very nearly picks a fight with a group of Rangers.

Complaints are similar, from Geiszler's new posting. If anything, he lacks Gottlieb's restraint. The work suffers on both sides, even with fresh samples in Geiszler's hands.

In the end, the marshals at the respective 'domes can't even say who it was that floated the idea, but Gottlieb is transferred right away.

The first screaming match happens in the hallway, before he is even settled in his new quarters.

Geiszler doesn't go back to his own room that night.

"I'm not going to say I missed you." Newt passes Hermann a bottle, sitting down on the floor by the other man's bed.

"Nor I you, obviously."

"You're like a lightning rod of hate." He snickers, rolling his eyes when Hermann doesn't laugh along. "And so am I. So we're going to fight, like always, but then we won't yell at everybody else."

"That hardly sounds like healthy behavior."

"It's what's going to happen."

Hermann drinks, and passes the bottle back. "I always work better when I am able to tell you how wrong you are."

"Ditto."

They had a friendship once. Neither knows exactly how the deep love that they had for the mere idea of each other turned to the vitriol, and neither knows how to reverse it. Most importantly, neither is willing to take a first step that might be thrown back in his face.

Still... beneath it all, some feeling remains. And as long as they are in the same Shatterdome, there is a sense that it will all be all right, no matter how many fights or harsh words. Those fights are what they have now, and each one admits that his heart leaps a little in joy as much as in anger when the other enters his lab to start an argument.

They drink a little longer, before Hermann refuses the bottle.

"That's my limit. It should be yours."

Newt shrugs, and settles down on Hermann's floor. His staying can be the basis of another fight.


	8. Our Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Prompt: Newt, Gen- Newfound respect for Newt
> 
> I would like to see everyone (Raleigh, Mako, Tendo, Herc, Hermann, Hannibal?) coming to the realization of all the stuff that Newt did to pretty much figure out how to save the world on his own. From drifting alone with the Kaiju brain, going to the seedy and dangerous Hong Kong black market, getting chased and almost killed by two Kaiju, and then drifting with a Kaiju brain again all in one day. They all have a newfound respect and awe for Newt and maybe go to thank him or try to figure out what the heck he was thinking during all of it. Bonus points for Newt still looking kind of beat up as a result of his world saving.)
> 
> Well, Hannibal didn't come up, but here's a little something with the Shatterdome occupants appreciating Newt's heroism. And some clingy-but-not-overtly-romantic drift partnerships.

Hermann doesn't even let go of him, after the clock stops, just whisks him down to medical where his arm stays locked around Newt until the staff there understands his explanations. Drift partners aren't separated.

Newt kind of likes it, if he's honest. Hermann cares about him-- he'd seen it in the drift, and felt a little guilty for his side of the years of bad blood between them, a feeling he knows they share. One thing is for certain, it is going to be awesome now that they can go back to being friends. Their collaborations are going to rock that much harder with the two of them not fighting each other. Well, he's sure they will, if they disagree on science, but those are the fights that improve the work, not the fights that might delay it. 

They're chilling on a pair of narrow beds, side by side in the little room, the first chance either of them has had in a long time to relax, discussing the papers they'll be co-authoring, when there's a knock on the door, and Newt sits up.

Mako and Raleigh, limping in supporting each other, and the only real conversation Newt had had with Raleigh previously was... not friendly. But that was before he and Hermann had raced in with the revision to the plan that saved the world, and the dude looks way more relaxed about everything. Which might be the painkillers talking. Raleigh looks like he rates the good stuff, better than the ones they'd given Newt when they'd patched him up. They hadn't even been able to give Hermann anything on top of what he was already taking, since he didn't rate the really good drugs.

"We wanted to thank you." Mako smiles, and Raleigh just nods. "We wouldn't have succeeded without your help."

"We woulda brought flowers, but can you believe this hospital's got no gift shop?" Raleigh jokes, and Newt laughs, a slightly wheezy, snorting laugh that gets everyone else going.

Before he knows it, Hermann is sitting up with him on his bed and Mako and Raleigh are leaning against each other sitting on Hermann's and Tendo is there passing out Hershey's Miniatures. Hermann snatches up the Special Dark only after making sure that Newt has the only Mr. Goodbar, and Mako and Raleigh both seem content with little Krackle bars, and Tendo is thanking all four of them, patting everyone on the back and ending up at Newt.

"It looks like Tendo found the gift shop." Newt says, and Raleigh laughs, and Tendo just looks between all four of them.

"Okay, they have you all drugged up pretty good." Tendo rolls his eyes. 

"Except Hermann." Newt says, and the beds are so close that Hermann's feet and Raleigh's feet sort of meet in the middle of the little room, and Raleigh shifts to the side to let Hermann stretch his leg out, and all of them are too tired to really care. Newt feels like he'd fall asleep right on Hermann's shoulder if it wasn't for the chocolate.

"A little bird told me you two drifted together." Tendo points to Newt and Hermann, and Newt nods. 

"He wasn't going to let me drift solo with the brain."

"After the way he freaked out finding you the first time, I'm not actually surprised. But hell of a good thing you did, brother, or we'd all be sunk right now."

"Mm, suppose so." Hermann leans a little more heavily into Newt, the two of them supporting each other. Newt thinks of building an archway out of blocks, the pressure keeping the arch in place, and he thinks he and Hermann are like that, holding each other as upright as can be reasonably expected, and across from them, Mako and Raleigh look much the same. "I wish the Marshal had sent someone else to procure that second brain for you, though..."

He brushes his fingertips across Newt's forehead, not quite touching the stitched-up gash there. 

"I'm mostly glad I went, I think." Newt protests. He'd seen so much great stuff at Chau's, it was kind of worth all the threats of bodily harm. The shelter hadn't been ideal, but he'd made it out alive. "I mean, thanks to these guys saving my ass."

Mako and Raleigh nod in tandem when he gestures to them, and Hermann tuts and pouts and-- Newt knows-- wishes he had been sent along from the start. It's not a logical wish, but he'd felt it, too, and feels echoes of it still. The admittedly illogical thought that Hermann had had, that his being there the whole time might have kept Newt out of at least some danger.

"I think Newt was the right man for the job." Mako says softly, and she stretches her leg out to kick gently at Newt's foot. "Or sensei would not have sent him. Someone else might have brought home a liver instead of a brain."

The doctors eventually chase Tendo out, and send Mako and Raleigh back to their own beds to recuperate, but not before Newt is once more inundated with thanks and pats on the back and hugs. 

Hermann's hug is the longest, before he returns to his side of the room to attempt sleep, but they're kept from that goal by the door opening once more. 

Herc Hansen. That, Newt had not expected. Is Herc in charge? With the Marshal gone and the rest of the PPDC brass having fucked off to abandon them all, he might be the guy there with the highest rank, Newt has no idea. It becomes clear, though, that Hansen is acting in an official capacity, when he wordlessly places a small object in Newt's hand.

It's a medal. Newt has never wanted any military honors, but coming from Hansen, who's just lost all that he's lost, he's not going to turn it down.

"Thanks." He says, mouth dry.

"Thank you." Herc nods, before slipping back out again.

Hermann smiles over from his bed when Newt holds the medal up. It has the PPDC's insignia, must have been sitting in a desk drawer waiting to be given out to one of the victorious Rangers, designed when it looked like the war would be quickly and easily won... Now there are precious few Rangers to hand medals out to, but Newt doesn't want to dwell on that. He's been recognized for his contributions, his theories, and his bravery... that's a thought he can go to sleep dwelling on.


	9. Cuddle Buddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promtp:  
> One day for shits and giggles, on a ten minute break from Kaiju dissection, Newt prints off and fills out a Cuddle Buddy Application form and subtly leaves it on Hermann's side of the lab.
> 
> The next day he walks in and Hermann silently slides his own form back.
> 
> for reference - http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lpadhieyJW1qbg6v2o1_500.png

GEISZLER, NEWTON

 **DOB:** 1/19/90   M   5'7"   133lb

 

Hermann stared at the paper on his desk. Phone and email address fields had been left blank-- it didn't matter, of course, he knew both. Under address, it merely said 'the other side of the lab, you dink, I can't believe you're reading this', and Hermann rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe it himself. He couldn't believe he'd entertained any of whatever this new nonsense was, he should have balled up the page and thrown it away when he saw the ridiculous header. A 'National Cuddle Buddy Association' was hardly something he cared to be part of-- 'International', thanks to Newt's editing in red pen. Not the same pen he used to fill the form out.

 

"Ridiculous." Hermann huffed, but he kept reading anyway.

 

**RATE THE IMPORTANCE**

**of the following , as they relate to cuddling, listing their importance in order of most important (1) to least important (4), using the numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4, and using each number only once.**

[3] **HAND HOLDING**

[4] **WARMTH**

[2] **CLOSENESS**

[1] **COMFORT**

 

Hermann let out a sigh. Well, with the world ending around them, it was hard to deny someone comfort. Even if that someone was frequently childish, incredibly loud, incurably sloppy Newton... If he was honest, comfort sounded pretty good about then. And maybe Newton wasn't the last person he could see himself cuddling with. Maybe... maybe, if he was very, very honest with himself, Newt was the first.

And maybe the silly application form was kind of endearing.

 

**ACCEPTED PET/NICK-NAMES**

_NEWT_

Dude

Sternchen

Shut up okay what do you want from me just Newt all right

 

**CUDDLE OUTFIT (Preferred)**

Ditch the blazer and pick a non-itchy sweater. Shoes off.

Socks cool. Jammies also cool. I will be wearing sweats and tee.

 

**RATE YOUR CUDDLING**

**using the scale provided, marking only one box.**

**WORST 1[ ] [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ] 10 BEST** 11, maybe a 12

Srsly Hermann primo cuddling say yes

 

Hermann snorted, completely unsurprised that Newton would ignore the rules laid out and write in the margins-- and completely unsurprised that he would have such an inflated opinion of himself. He'd be the judge of Newton's cuddling skills.

 

He stopped himself-- that thought had been reactionary, he hadn't really meant he would be the judge of them, had he? Well... maybe. Not many people went to the trouble of printing out a form for him, after all... and the little 'say yes' was definitely hard to turn down.

 

**CUDDLE POSITION (preferred) Describe your favorite cuddling position in a few sentences.**

Best: You, me, bed. Don't freak out, fully clothed. You're the big spoon. Feel free to touch anywhere above the waist, legs tangled up however you're comfy. My hair will be clean and will smell good.

Also okay: You, me, couch. Your arm around me, mine around your waist, my head on your shoulder. Would be cool if my legs were across your lap but ok if not.

 

There was even a bit of boilerplate that Hermann didn't bother reading, above Newton's messy signature, the 'R' at the end of 'Geiszler' with a tail that went all the way to the end of the line where it turned into a scribbled star. Very childish, but... still endearing. And beside that...

 

**OFFICIAL USE ONLY (leave blank)**

**DATE SUBMITTED [  /  /  ]**

**[ ] ACCEPTED [ ] REJECTED**

 

Well... Hermann sighed again. He definitely didn't have the heart to reject such a nearly-well-organized plea... not when he did want comfort himself. The work just wasn't coming along fast enough, and they had both been pushing themselves so hard... They'd argued a lot, both frustrated with themselves as much as with each other, and Hermann was tired. Weary, really.

 

Of fighting for humanity, of fighting with Newton, of working until he could physically carry on no longer and fearing the worst... And of never being held or touched himself, having no one to turn to for human contact and reassurance. Not since the friendship he'd treasured so much with Newton fell apart, and every fight they had seemed to deepen the old wound.

 

He ticked the box to accept, wrote out a time, and added 'my quarters'. His bed would work, and he didn't want to try to get comfortable on Newton's standard-issue bunk.

 

It gave him time to shower before Newt would arrive, and he went ahead and changed his sheets as well. He'd put it off for weeks, the clean set ready and waiting, because just the thought of doing it was so exhausting when he was already pushing himself past the brink each day. Damn it, he was going to be a good host for his... cuddle buddy, though.

 

He had to collapse into bed once the task was done, settling onto his side with a groan and curling in on himself to stretch his spine out. He definitely needed this break... The knock at the door seemed to come too soon, and he pushed himself up with a stifled curse, limping unassisted to get the door. He'd have left it open if he hadn't needed to shower, but he just couldn't leave it unlocked while he was in his bath...

 

Newt was on his doorstep, looking half-eager and half...

 

Half like a little boy who'd had the hand of friendship yanked back at the last second almost one too many times... almost, but not quite. Hermann wasn't going to be the one to tip him over.

 

As promised on the form, Newt was wearing sweatpants-- faded burgundy, frayed at the bottom, with gold paint that had mostly flaked away and no longer formed whatever word had once been spelled out down the thigh. And a tee shirt, which appeared to be old Queen album art. Also quite faded and worn-looking. Soft-looking. He had a blanket with him, which seemed absurd. Hermann had blankets, he'd invited Newt to his room, they weren't finding a couch somewhere to cuddle on, there was a real bed right there... Still, it looked cozy. Thick and fluffy-- 'furry', Hermann almost wanted to say. Soft, definitely, and a comfortably subdued teal, not bright or loud.

 

"You're wearing jammies." Newt said, with a note of awe.

 

"What grown man says 'jammies'?" Hermann grumbled, ushering Newt in. "Next you'll be bringing a teddy bear."

 

He winced once the words were out. Was that what the blanket was? A comfort object, for security?

 

"Dude, are you saying there's gonna be a next time?" Newt just grinned. "Wait-- dude-- Are you saying I could bring, like... cuddling supplies?"

 

"You don't need 'supplies' to cuddle." Hermann rolled his eyes. "I have a bed right there, which is perfectly serviceable. Besides, if you have any faith whatsoever in my ability to cuddle, then I don't see why you would even need a bear."

 

"Well, to start, he's not a bear, but second, so I can hold something while you hold me." He chuckled, bouncing on the balls of his feet while Hermann locked the door. Once that was done, Hermann moved back to the bed, and Newt kicked his shoes off by the door before joining him, climbing in and scooting back into Hermann.

 

"Hold onto my hand if you have to. And I didn't say there was going to be a next time..." Hermann said, but he curled around Newt easily.

 

It felt good, holding someone, feeling the warmth of another body in his bed, and they got the blanket tucked around themselves, which made the whole thing even warmer. Newt hadn't lied-- his hair did smell nice, with Hermann's nose up against the nape of his neck. Coconut...

 

He wound up drifting off, waking up embarrassed when he heard Newt repeat the question of whether he should hit the road.

 

"So... do you think there'll ever be, like, a repeat?" Newt asked him, from the doorway. "Just when things get super, you know... stressful, at work?"

 

Hermann nodded. "I would like that. If things get particularly stressful. You... you are definitely a solid ten, at cuddling."

 

"I'm an eleven at least." Newt snorted.

 

"There is no eleven! Ten is the highest, just take the ten!"

 

Newt grinned at him, and Hermann couldn't help grinning back. As arguments between them went, fighting over the scale by which cuddle prowess could be measured beat... well, anything else.

 

Their second cuddle session, Newt brought a squashy red plush dinosaur with him. Hermann wasn't sure if it was ugly or cute... but it was small, easily tucked under Newt's chin to be the littlest spoon of all, and it was soft against Hermann's hand, when he brushed against it inadvertently. He didn't fall asleep, but Newt did, his breaths deep and even. He didn't really snore-- no louder than a kitten would, or a little bunny, and Hermann smiled at that.

 

The third time, Hermann wound up rubbing Newt's belly without really thinking about it. He froze once he realized what he was doing, only to draw a protesting little noise out of Newt.

 

"That feels good." Newt explained.

 

"All right, then." Hermann resumed the slow up-and-down. "I've never submitted a form to you..."

 

"No. Why? At this point, we kind of, like... just talk about whether or not we need Cuddle Buddy time."

 

"Yes, but... I've never submitted my preferred cuddling positions, or what I think you ought to wear, or... or any of that. Pet names. The lot."

 

"... Yeah? Is... Does this not work for you?"

 

"It does. But I might also like to be the little spoon some of the time."

 

"Aw man." Newt sighed. "You bring that up right after tummy rubs are introduced? Yeah. Okay. Next time. Just ask. Did you want me to wear something else, because this is the softest stuff I've got, so--"

 

"No. No, I assume if you have anything more pajama-like, you would rather not walk down the corridors wearing it."

 

"I usually sleep in boxers, so yeah. I mean, I throw jammies on if it's cold. Not, like, a matching set like you have. Which, dude, who wears stuff like that to bed? It's like cartoon character pajamas, are those really comfortable?"

 

"They are comfortable to me. You haven't complained before."

 

"I'm not really complaining." Newt gave Hermann's arm a quick, apologetic squeeze. "I like 'em. Fuzzy, soft flannel, can't really complain. I'd just never be able to sleep in it myself, that's all."

 

Hermann hummed.

 

"So, wait-- do you have pet names? Do you like your cuddle buddies to call you something other than, like, 'dude'? Do I get to call you 'Hermie' when we're cuddling?"

 

"Absolutely not."

 

"Herms?"

 

"If you absolutely must. But _only_ while we are cuddling."

 

"I'm cool with 'Hermann'." Newt chuckled softly. "But I knew if I started with 'Hermie', you'd bargain me down, and I was kind of thinking maybe we'd be on a first name basis outside of cuddle time?"

 

"... Well, it might be a little silly, to insist upon formalities after I've had you in my bed." Hermann allowed, a smile twitching at his lips. "I was thinking, though... Last time, when you were sleeping, I don't know, I guess I felt like maybe I could see myself using a pet name for you."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Haschen." He said softly.

 

"No one's used that one for me before."

 

"No, I suppose not. It wasn't on your list. Who called you 'Sternchen'?"

 

"My dad. When I was six, and I was... like, this tiny, lonely, scared kid, and he'd sit me on his lap in the living room and try to fix the mess my hair was, and tell me... you know, good parent stuff, I guess. That I was special and important and he was glad he had me, and... stuff like that."

 

"That is sweet. My mother... my mother called me-- Well, she had cute names for us all."

 

"What did she call you?" Newt grinned.

 

"It's not important."

 

"Dude, I just unloaded a story about being six and getting a pet name from my dad, you can tell me what your mom used to call you."

 

"Knuddelmuddel." He bit the word out, prepared for Newt to laugh at the ridiculously, disgustingly cute, dignity-free name.

 

Instead, Newt made the sort of sound he normally made when looking at photographs of 'smiling' snakes.

 

"You absolutely do not get to use it." Hermann said quickly.

 

"But it's so perfect!"

 

"It is completely inapt."

 

"Dude, you're cuddling me right now. Hermann... Okay, fine. I will not use your mom's cute name for you. Spatzi?"

 

"What?"

 

Newt grinned, squeezing his dinosaur and cuddling back into Hermann. "I was wondering if I could call you 'spatzi' during cuddle time. You, uh... you answered to it, so... Yes?"

 

"Yes." Hermann allowed. He nuzzled at the back of Newt's neck, sighing. "If I may use mine, for you. Haschen."

 

"I kind of like it. It's, um... Forget it. I like it, though, yeah."

 

"Newton?"

 

"Cuddle Buddy names." Newt tsked.

 

"Haschen?" Hermann blushed.

 

"Yes, Spatzi?"

 

"I'm glad we do this now. I... it seems like we fight less, when we do. And I like... I missed being close." He swallowed. "I always cared about you quite a lot. The day we met, I was having a bad one. If I moved my back, I was getting sharp pains down one leg, I'd had some bad news, I was under stress... and then you came, and you were not what I expected you to be, but I still shouldn't have taken my bad day out on you."

 

"Yeah, well... I had a chip on my shoulder. Used to being defensive, with the tattoos. Even when we were winning the war, there's, like, a difference between buying a kaiju tee shirt and getting one permanently engraved on your skin, and... I was used to fighting people, I guess. And used to seeing more hostility than I really got. That's just a, a brain thing."

 

"It's not a bad thing." Hermann said softly. "That you were not what I expected. I don't want you to think that I was disappointed or upset by the reality. I was... _dismayed_. I thought you would be like me, and... then you walked up to my table, with your hair gelled up into those ridiculous spikes you wore back then, and you had a wallet chain--"

 

"Wallet chains were back in." Newt laughed.

 

"And all this, you know... I mean, I hardly knew from fashionable, but you were... You looked _cool_. And I felt a little bit... It's stupid. I felt betrayed. Because we were supposed to be alike. Terribly uncharitable of me, I know."

 

"Well, now you know better-- I mean... you, um... I hate to say it, but you might be in kind of a minority, in thinking I'm cool." Newt rolled over, so that he could wrap his arm around Hermann in return, cuddling down into his chest, the dinosaur between them.

 

"Guys like you never noticed me." Hermann admitted, with a little sigh. "Not very many people took... took much notice of me, beyond my brain, and what I could do for them. Not friendly notice, I mean. Well, not romantic notice, either..."

 

"Guys like me... you mean... Cool guys?"

 

"Mm-hm."

 

"Oh. Cool. I mean, wait. What's wrong with noticing your brain?"

 

"Nothing, obviously. But... I am more than that. Maybe not much more--"

 

"Our brains are all we are." Newt argued. "Our brains keep our lungs and heart working, our brains are responsible for personality, our brains make the decisions that drive every action we take. Our brains pump out the chemicals and hormones that give us our emotions. I noticed your brain back when you were writing me letters. But that's a good thing, that's not... It's different from only noticing your work, or your intelligence."

 

"When you say you noticed me... Damn, but it's a little awkward asking these things when we're..."

 

"Cuddling?"

 

"Well... yes."

 

Newt pulled back a little, to meet Hermann's eyes, blinking. With his glasses safely on Hermann's dresser, he was just glad they were close enough that he could make out Hermann's face.

 

"Am I romantically interested in you?"

 

Hermann nodded miserably, and Newt leaned in, pressing his lips gently to Hermann's... chin. Well, still, not bad.

 

"Yeah, well, I'd say, I mean... like, I'm in bed with you and I like when you use pet names for me and when you, like, rub me. Uh, non, you know, non-sexually. So far. Yeah. Kinda I am. And this seems to help with us not fighting as bad, and you seem to be... better? Like, happier, less tired? And I know I am. Yeah."

 

Hermann merely nodded again, far less miserably, before fitting their mouths together.


	10. Deep Breaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> There seems to be a trend of fics where Hermann is taking care of Newt in various situations, so I'd like to see something new.
> 
> You don't have to use this scenario, but perhaps Hermann is having a hard time dealing with the after effects of Drifting and Newt decides to help him out since he's already done it? I just feel like Hermann would have a hard time mentally coming to terms with something like that. But really, any sort of situation where Hermann is coddled by Newt is fine. Nothing explicit though, please. Preferably friendship or pre-slash. Thanks!

For a while, they both stand there, enjoying that one moment of glorious triumph, the stopped clock, the cheers. It's a pretty pyrrhic victory for those inside the 'dome, Newt knows, and the victory celebration will give way to grieving, probably far too soon, but it's the victory that's going to _last_ , too. And for the world beyond? For that, the sacrifices are still more than worth it. He understands being ready to die for the chance to save the world.

 

Hermann breaks away, as the cheers die down, and even though Newt had felt his bone-deep exhaustion when they had touched, had felt what it was like to run down the halls with his lower back screaming and his legs threatening to give way, Hermann moves fast when he does go.

 

Newt follows after, and almost blows right past where Hermann has tucked himself into an alcove just big enough to hide him, and Newt is beyond intimately familiar with what a panic attack looks like.

 

"Breathe." He offers Hermann a hand, gratified when Hermann reaches out and grabs it. Hermann's grip is strong in spite of the tremble in his hand, and Newt hauls him up carefully. "Not here, okay, buddy? Somewhere comfortable-- quiet. It's a lot, right?"

 

Hermann nods, leaning heavily into Newt as they walk.

 

"Yeah. It's okay, though. The bad stuff passes. Hey, I've been there. Just keep breathing. Your room?"

 

He nods again, and Newt steers them. He'd seen himself through Hermann's eyes, experienced the panic and the pain, and the adrenaline-fueled struggle to get him into a chair before he was responsive. The fierce, nameless love that felt so much like what Newt remembers from nights spent poring over Hermann's letters. It was a love he'd never been comfortable categorizing. He couldn't call it 'romantic', he couldn't say that it wasn't that... he could only know that he loved the brilliant, sharp, passionately inquisitive soul who sent him those letters. Whatever kind of love it was, he'd always hoped that Hermann felt the same way on his end. And he'd feared that they had killed it with clumsiness and anxiety and harsh tongues, on the day they met. But it was there in the Drift, when he saw himself through Hermann's eyes, seizing on the floor.

 

Hermann had been concerned. Hermann had been tender.

 

Now it's Newt's turn.

 

He speaks gently, helping to get them in, helping to get Hermann onto his bed, shoes and jacket and belt removed.

 

"Comfortable?" He asks. He knows Hermann isn't, but not whether or not there's more he should do to ease what discomfort he can. There's nothing comfortable about having a panic attack-- especially not one that begins in public. It's like pissing your pants onstage at Carnegie Hall. You feel childish and ashamed and very much the center of attention, even if you know you can't be blamed and aren't being scrutinized. "Take deep breaths for me and I'll get you some water. Don't gulp the air down, go slow-- I want you to count to five as you breathe in, keep breathing in slowly until you hit five, then I want you to count to three, and then count to seven as you let the air out, _slow_. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..."

 

Once he has Hermann breathing, Newt takes the water glass from Hermann's nightstand and goes to fill it. He remembers Hermann throwing up when they came out of the Drift-- can't blame him, really. He knows Hermann is sometimes prone to motion sickness-- that it's not normally that bad, but... well, their experience had been anything but 'normal'.

 

He gets back to the bed, one hand cradling the base of Hermann's skull and the other holding the glass for him. Hermann directs the tilting of it with a shaking hand, and Newt keeps it from falling or spilling.

 

"Good." Newt strokes Hermann's forehead once he's done, the water glass back in its place and Hermann curled in on himself on the bed. "Good... Now, breathe in counting to seven, and out for eight. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Hold for one, two, three. Now out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two, three. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight..."

 

He gives Hermann some time. There are hiccups along the way, but for the most part, Hermann handles the breathing exercise pretty well. Newt wonders if it's the numbers themselves that get him through it. The deep, slow breaths calm everything down, physically, but it can be a struggle to make yourself breathe right when your body is still in panic mode.

 

"Good." He says at last. "I'm going to get you a washcloth and clean you up, but I want you to take it one more step, okay? In for eight, hold, out for ten. Think you can?"

 

Hermann nods, though he still doesn't open his eyes to look at Newt. Newt can't blame him, letting someone help is an intense thing, but after the intense thing they've already shared... Hermann is letting him help, and Newt is glad for that. He's glad he can help someone else, he's glad Hermann trusts him, still cares for him... He's glad they're getting through it together.

 

"Awesome. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten... One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight..."

 

He makes sure Hermann has the rhythm of it down again, before he leaves his side to get a warm, wet washcloth.

 

"If you're feeling calm, you can breathe normally. Let me sit you up again... doing okay?"

 

"Lightheaded..." Hermann groans, scooting up and wincing, pushing himself to sit.

 

"Yeah. It does that to you. But it's good. That breathing thing really works, at slowing down all those physical flight responses." He smiles gently, washing Hermann's face, then folding the cloth over, using one clean side to wipe down the back and sides of Hermann's neck, then moving onto his hands, before going over gently with Hermann's hand towel.

 

"I feel stupid."

 

"Well, you're the smartest guy I know, so cut it out." Newt says gently. "There's nothing stupid about your body reacting to stress stimuli. Also some of my anxiety disorder crap might have rubbed off on you when we mashed our neurons together. But even without that, like... We did something huge, dude. It's okay to be freaked out, as long as you know you're safe now and that it's... you know, it's time to come down from it and feel better."

 

"Thank you." Hermann's voice sounds thick, and Newt wants to hold onto him tight, but he restrains himself. "For helping me."

 

"You helped me." Newt shrugs, and Hermann finally meets his eyes, giving him a tiny smile.

 

"Yes. I did, didn't I? And-- And we're alive. And... there are, there are still two pilots who, who definitely made it out alive. The breach is, is closed, we all did that. The world..." He lets out a shaky breath. "The world is alive. Newton, has anything ever been so beautiful?"

 

"Probably never." Newt grins. He wraps Hermann in a careful hug, before helping him to lie back down again.

 

"We should... Medical..."

 

"One hour. You need to rest, and they've got the Rangers to worry about... I'm going to stay right with you, I'm going to set your alarm, and then we'll walk down there together, and we'll stay together--"

 

"No, Newton, your--" Hermann reaches up, hand fluttering to Newt's temple, avoiding direct contact with the gash on his forehead.

 

"Scalp wounds, man, they're never as bad as they look."

 

"It will scar if they don't see to it..."

 

"That's okay. You know they've been short-staffed since we got cut loose, man, we can wait around an hour here while they recover Mako and Beckett and start seeing to them, or we can go down there and wait around for an hour in frickin' uncomfortable plastic chairs while they, you know, do all that stuff I just said..."

 

Hermann nods. 

 

"Stretch a little, okay? Slow and careful, make sure you didn't hurt anything. Do your PT moves, the ones you do lying down. And I'll clean myself up a little and then we'll just relax until it's time." Newt says, setting the alarm on Hermann's nightstand for an hour.

 

He waits until Hermann starts in on the modified set he uses for bad pain days, careful stretches chosen for his specific physical concerns, and when he's sure Hermann will be okay a few minutes, he uses Hermann's bathroom to clean himself up a little bit as well, kicking off his shoes and stripping out of his jacket, discarding his own belt before crawling into bed, where Hermann is lying on his side once again, all of his prone stretches completed.

 

"I'm glad you're with me." Hermann says softly, smiling as Newt leans over him to set his glasses on the nightstand.

 

"Me, too. Can I, um... Can I hold you?"

 

"Please." He nods, and as Newt's arms come up around him, he relaxes even further.

 

They both do.


	11. And Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt (doing it w/ Newt/Hermann... no one is surprised):  
> I really need a Frottage fic inspired by this NSFW gif (http://bi-times.tumblr.com/post/49254121720)! It doesn't matter who's top or bottom just give me hot frotting action!
> 
>  
> 
> (combining with another prompt for angst-free Hermann-has-trouble-getting/maintaining-erections, sexytimes ensue anyway)

"It just takes a while." Hermann blushes. He's lying back on the bed, pale, bare skin that Newt can't wait to get intimately acquainted with, and Newt's cock is flushed and bobbing up at the sight-- and after all the kissing they've been doing-- but Hermann's lies against his thigh, pink and with an occasional faint twitch.

 

"That's cool." Newt promises.

 

"Sometimes it-- Sometimes it just won't happen. It doesn't mean I don't-- It doesn't mean you aren't--"

 

"It's cool." Newt straddles him, leaning down for another kiss. "Do you still want to try?"

 

"Oh... fuck, yes." Hermann sighs, leaning up after him when he pulls away.

 

Newt gives Hermann one last little kiss, before sitting up, a hand on Hermann's chest keeping him down. "Let me put on a show for you. Just lie back... and relax. Don't worry about anything. If you can't get off tonight, we've got plenty of time to try again... and again... and again..."

 

Hermann gulps, nodding. He could get used to trying again. And again, and again... Newt's skin is a bright tapestry, his chest and arms smooth, his thighs un-inked and dusted with hair that feels delightfully coarse and tickly under a palm, when Hermann touches him.

 

"Ah-ah." Newt bats his hand away, grinning. "I'm putting on a show, so no touching, just looking."

 

Hermann groans, but he complies with the demand. Newt is certainly easy to look at. The lines of his body are soft, but there's good, lean muscle beneath the fat. He looks... sleek, Hermann wants to say, though it's an odd word for Newt. And cuddly. He thinks about how perfectly his hands would fit to Newt's hips, to his upper arms, to his strong thighs... How perfectly his hand would fit around Newt's beautiful cock, jutting out proudly already and perfectly thick. How satisfying to stretch his lips around it, how good it would feel to have Newt inside him. And they'll have time, as Newt promised, to do all of those things. Again, and again, and again.

 

Newt picks himself up, one hand braced on Hermann's ribcage, one wrapping around his cock, and he rolls himself up and forward and back again, hips and hand working in perfect rhythm together. It's a beautiful sight, yes, but more than that, it's the pressure from Newt's hand gripping his side just so, and the strangely exciting feel of Newt's balls dragging up and down his belly, that has Hermann's interest mounting.

 

And Newt's ass coming back each time to rest for too brief a millisecond at the root of Hermann's cock, to drag against his length where he lies limp...

 

Less limp, as the feel of Newt rubbing up against him goes on. Not fully hard, and there was no promise of getting there, but with Newt's assurances-- and the joy of watching him do his thing-- at least Hermann wasn't worried about it, and worrying was always the worst thing for it.

 

"Ohh, fuck, this is so hot..." Newt pants, still fisting his cock, still rubbing himself against Hermann as he did, his expression transported. "I can feel you, you know. You're enjoying this, yeah? Fuck, beautiful, like you don't even know where to look..."

 

Hermann doesn't-- there's no part of Newt that isn't utterly fascinating. He tries to take in the whole picture and keeps getting sucked into the details. The way skin moves over muscle and changes the look of a tattoo here, the way Newt's hand looks against him there, the redness of his mouth still from making out before they'd undressed and the glistening bead of precome fresh at the head of his cock...

 

"I love feeling a cock sliding against me." Newt continues, and that definitely gets a rise out of Hermann, if not a complete one still. "I wanna feel you, just... rubbing up against my ass, yeah, right like that. Nestled in there. Think it's even better than actually getting fucked, to just get teased with it... to know your cock's right there, so close, but you could just as easily get off rubbing against me without giving me that, could just... fuck, could get so hot over me, and I get so hot over you that I couldn't last long enough anyway, you know? You'd be teasing me and I'd be working myself up, and it would all be too much, just the thought could send me over, and feeling you rutting up against me."

 

Hermann groans, and this time when he reaches out, Newt doesn't stop him. Hermann's hand slides up Newt's thigh, up to his hip, and his other hand wraps around Newt's forearm, holding that hand to his ribcage, keeping that grip right where it is, keeping Newt steady so that he can rock his hips and lift and lower himself, and Hermann knows he's going to get hard.

 

He knows it won't last. It's taking long enough to get there, and his current best case scenario prediction is that he'll come, but it's a good thing Newt is doing all the work putting on this show of his. It doesn't matter-- Newt is clearly enjoying the attention he gets from putting that show on, and watching what he does with himself will give Hermann a better idea of what he can do with his hands another time, how Newt likes his handjobs.

 

Newt's movements get more erratic, and the sound he makes goes straight to Hermann's cock-- expected-- and to his heart-- not so expected-- when he shoots his load across Hermann's belly and grinds down against Hermann's hard-on.

 

Hermann comes a moment later, thanks to that final, solid grind, the feel of being nestled between Newt's ass cheeks and the images Newt's words had painted for him.

 

He supposes it's a bit pathetic, as orgasms go. For someone else it might have been counted a failure. He's not ashamed of it. He can't measure himself by someone else's scale-- he's wasted enough time trying to do that. For him, it was a damn good one, and it feels wonderful to have Newt carefully move to lie beside him, to bask in the afterglow with a little space for each to breathe, but with their hands entwined still.

 

"I'm glad you got to finish." Newt grins. Hermann's chest is still heaving, still flushed, and Newt leans in to kiss him. "I had a lot of fun."

 

"Yes... yes, so did I." Hermann nods. "It's, ah... It might be like that most of the time. It stays limp, it stays limp, it gets hard, it goes off, it's all over with... that's sort of as good as it gets... Just to let you know. Sometimes I lose it without getting to finish, so... this was very good, for me. But if you really want to be fucked, I'm afraid we'll have to experiment with toys."

 

"You're saying that like I might be disappointed by you and me experimenting with toys." Newt snorts. "That sounds awesome. You can do anything you want with me and toys, yeah. Just let me keep trying things for you, okay? And we'll do whatever we have to to make it work out for both of us. Toys is good. Handjobs and blowjobs are good. I'm seriously into frotting. If it's a good day, so what if you come as soon as you get hard? I'll have fun getting you hard. If it's a bad day, well... There's still stuff we can do to have fun together."

 

Hermann grins, pulling Newt into a longer kiss.

 

"Again and again and again?" He asks, when the kiss breaks.

 

"And again." Newt winks. "And again, and again."


	12. Wanna Be Your Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> i've been bitten by the puppybug please help
> 
> also charlie day sort of lends himself to it i mean come on (http://yunafire.tumblr.com/post/55992802272)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say, of all the myriad animals to be/ways to explore pet play, puppies never used to be a particular interest of mine, so... fair warning, I am new to this one. I'm not a dog person in general, I guess, but the prompt was so cute I wanted to at least give it a try!

It's not as if they weren't kinky before. That's how Hermann rationalizes it all to himself. They've done just about all two people can do with limited equipment, a bed the size they have, and his own physical restrictions-- except this. They've never done this.

 

Most of the equipment had been easy to get. Hermann had merely walked into a pet store looking like he had every business being there and picked up a leash-- an electric blue chain with a black leather handle that felt very nice in his hand, and would certainly appeal to Newt's sensibilities... A simple black tag, easily engraved with 'Wolfie', the only thing he could think of when he realized he was too public a figure to have his boyfriend's real name engraved on an ID tag for a dog.

 

The collar itself he had to wait on. The ones in the shop had been cheap-looking, or uncomfortable, unpleasant to the touch, or just plain boring. The one that Hermann had had custom-made, on the other hand...

 

He pulls it from the box with a satisfied smile. Newton would love it. Lined in black suede, with a metallic blue leather outer that matched the leash just perfectly, black metal findings and spikes, and a ring at the front to dangle the tag from or hook the lead to... It would definitely do nicely.

 

Newt's demeanor changes the second he spots it in Hermann's hands, going from the loose swagger he'd entered the room with to something hopeful and expectant and very, very obedient.

 

"You said you'd think about it, I didn't know you got stuff." Newt whistles, coming forward when Hermann beckons him.

 

"Well... it would have been very selfish of me to ask you to cater to my whims without giving you this... You have done as much for me."

 

"Where did you find such a sweet collar?" Newt reaches up, pausing before he touches, waiting for Hermann's nod.

 

"I didn't." Hermann smiles, leaning in until his lips brush Newt's ear. "It was made to my very exacting specifications. I was hoping that a very good boy would want to wear it for me."

 

"I'm a good boy." Newt says, as if he has to convince Hermann. As if it is a plea and a promise all in one.

 

Hermann knows the feeling well. He's lived to please Newt as the submissive before, and will again. Today, it's his turn to dominate, and Newt's turn to be indulged.

 

"How long would you like to play at this?"

 

Newt chews at his lip, a move that never fails to draw Hermann's attention-- and usually his mouth, shortly after, but this time he does need to get some negotiations out of the way. They'd discussed the basics of what Newt would want out of such a scene, but some immediate groundwork is still in order, and Hermann would like to set the last-minute restrictions while they're both still somewhat clearheaded.

 

"The rest of the night? I know, I know, I know." Newt jumps in before Hermann can make any argument. "First time we're doing it, but I really, really just want to... like, be totally in the moment, and I don't want to hear your phone alarm go off and know it has to stop."

 

"The rest of the night. Unless one of us feels the need to stop things. First time, so... You're permitted to speak if you feel the need, you won't be punished for it. It's my first time Domming for pet play, so I would appreciate if you communicate your needs, if I am not meeting them. But no chattiness, just communication. As my pet, you will not get a say in what I feed you come dinnertime, and you will not get a say in what I put on the television, and you will not be permitted on the furniture unless invited. Hm... Maybe someday we'll invest in a crate for you."

 

Newt's eyes go wide in a very nice way, and Hermann chuckles, leaning in to kiss his nose. "I suppose if you're naughty I'll just have to be creative in coming up with a place to put you for time-out. It would be cruel to lock you in the bathroom... Ah-- and that. I am not laying down newspaper, so you will be breaking character when you need the toilet."

 

"Yes, sir." Newt grins up at him. "Anything else?"

 

"Go and get your tie off, change into a tee shirt, I don't want anything to get in the way of this." He says, his hand bouncing a little, testing the weight of the surprisingly solid collar in his palm. The little jangle of the hardware. Newt is off like a shot to comply, and comes back into the room in his pajama pants and an old tee, the words 'RAW FUCKING POWER' half-faded across the front.

 

Hermann snaps his fingers, and Newt sits on the floor beside his chair, not quite cross-legged with his knees up, the soles of his feet resting together. Hermann sits so that he can lean forward and fasten the collar around Newt's neck, enjoying the look of bliss that washes over his pet. Pet for the meantime, at least... and Hermann thinks he could get used to this.

 

"Good boy. If you can keep behaving like that, maybe I'll let you sleep on the bed tonight."

 

Newt strains to press into him further, to push his head into Hermann's hands with affectionate, snuffly nuzzling and one soft lick to the inside of a wrist.

 

"Calm down, now, down, boy." Hermann pulls out the tag, holding it up first so that Newt can read it, before clipping it to the ring on the collar. "There you go. Now if you get out, people will know to return you to me."

 

Newt practically vibrates with delight at that, and Hermann strokes through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp. He feels a little awkward about the script, even though he's practiced a few choice phrases in front of the bathroom mirror. But that will fade with experience. Practicing without Newt can only prepare him for so much.

 

"That's right. You're my good boy." He nods, giving Newt some more affection. He hadn't bought a dog bed, either, and he wishes he'd thought of that when he'd been at the pet store, but he gets up from his chair and goes to the sofa, pulling down two of the seat cushions onto the floor and arranging an afghan on top of them, into a working substitute. Someday. The dog bed, the crate, maybe something else, if something else caught his eye.

 

It's not such an odd scene, really... no odder than some of his kinks, and he knows he likes to pet at Newt anyway. He'd never have taken Newt for a large dog. Maybe some kind of hyperactive little bunny, or a brightly-colored exotic animal. But Newt wants to be a puppy, and can't help being man-sized, so a big dog it is. Hermann contemplates returning to his chair, but it's easier to take the end of the couch that still has a seat cushion, and to let Newt sit on his makeshift dog bed, happy at Hermann's feet.

 

Happy to rest his chin on Hermann's knee, and Hermann is glad Newt isn't trying to add to the whole effect by drooling or some such thing... He just keeps scratching through Newt's hair as he turns on the television. Newt whines whenever Hermann's fingers still too long, and for a while, Hermann just gives in. When his hand starts getting tired, though, he figures it's time to put his foot down.

 

"Lie down." He snaps his fingers-- his other hand-- and gestures to the unused space of the dog bed. Newt turns around in tight circles, and it's almost humorous, before flopping over with a heavy sigh, resting his chin on his crossed 'paws'.

 

"I can't spoil you all the time." Hermann rolls his eyes, as Newt continues to do whatever the doggy version of pouting is. "You have to learn to be independent, I don't want to come home from work to find you've destroyed the house because you don't know how to go ten minutes without being loved on."

 

Newt just sighs again, but he doesn't whine, and he doesn't speak up to tell Hermann that he needs more affection, so Hermann lets him rest on the floor for a while.

 

When he gets up to start cooking supper, Newt crawls along to wait just outside the kitchen on him, lifting his head to sniff at the air every so often.

 

"Oh, you're adorable." Hermann shakes his head, smiling. "Would you like a treat?"

 

Newt sits up a little straighter, and Hermann goes to the pantry.

 

He'd felt absolutely ridiculous buying children's graham crackers shaped like dog treats, but Newt recognizes the box and grins up at him so hard Hermann's cheeks ache in sympathy. He can practically hear the thump of the wagging tail Newt doesn't possess.

 

"You be a good boy and keep staying out from underfoot, now." He says, trying to keep a serious tone, but Newt is at attention, silently begging for the treat, and so Hermann pulls out a little bone-shaped cookie and lets Newt eat it from his hand. The feel of a warm, wet tongue slipping between his fingers after crumbs is... not wholly pleasant, when sex is not on the current agenda, actually. When he's not aroused, all he can think about is the fact that Newt has licked his hand, and he'd just washed them so that he could cook. He wipes his hand on Newt's back, under the guise of just petting him vigorously.

 

"There's a good boy, now no more, I'm not spoiling your dinner." He laughs, leaning away when Newt tries to lick his face next. Newt whines a little at being denied the chance, but he seems to be actually quite happy.

 

Hermann makes meatballs and gravy and wild rice, steaming a bag of frozen peas in the microwave when he's nearly done with the rest. He arranges his meal attractively on a plate, and then cuts up Newt's meatballs, mashes his peas, and stirs everything together in a bowl until sort of maybe resembles a wet dog food. Maybe one of those ridiculous gourmet dog foods that have to be kept refrigerated, at any rate.

 

He sets the bowl on the bench running along one side of their dining table, not wanting Newt to actually eat off the floor. It seemed bad for his posture and his digestion. Still, with the bowl sitting on the bench, Newt could sit or kneel on the floor beneath the table and eat comfortably. He puts a placemat down under the food dish, and the bowl of water that he sets out alongside it, whistling for Newt to come in.

 

Newt bounds up to his place, giving Hermann an adoring look before he dives into his dinner, and Hermann does his best to ignore the whole spectacle that is Newt eating like a dog.

 

"If you make a mess, I'm going to have to give you a bath." He threatens, his hand dropping down to Newt's shoulder briefly, and he can feel the shiver that runs through him. A bath it is, then.

 

He has to throw a dishtowel down where Newt's spilled some of his water, and he's definitely going to have to wash Newt's face-- apparently Newt did not believe in breaking character to eat with his hands while Hermann wasn't looking-- but he can't find it in him to be upset when Newt looks so relaxed.

 

There's no way he can kneel next to the bathtub to bathe Newt like one might traditionally wash a dog, but they have a nice big two-person shower with a bench and a detachable showerhead... It means Hermann will have to strip down as well and get in with him, but then, he's never minded sharing a shower with Newt before.

 

There's a little resistance when he goes to remove the collar, and he sighs, ruffling Newt's hair. "You've got to let me get this off you, I'm not letting it get all... ruined in the shower when it's brand new. Now behave with it off and there's a special treat in it for you."

 

Newt doesn't give in right away, of course-- there's some playful dodging before he lets Hermann get him undressed, but then he's sitting on the floor of the shower, with that adoring gaze aimed Hermann's way, and all feels right with the world. Hermann strips as well, grabbing the showerhead and waiting until the water warms up before he wets Newt down.

 

He gets Newt attempting to snuffle and nose his way up into his lap for his troubles, but he has to figure he shouldn't be surprised. He lets Newt get a lot farther than he would ever allow a real dog, though he gives him a sharp tug back by his hair when he feels Newt's tongue making an attempt at getting intimate.

 

"You're going to get your dinner all over me, you naughty boy..." He tuts, grabbing a washcloth. He starts with Newt's face and then his hair, and then he gets them both cleaned up. It's mostly a perfunctory job, though he throws in a wet, soapy belly-rub for Newt, and a kiss to the top of his head. He thinks it really is mostly accidental when his hand brushes Newt's erection, and he's bent over enough that this time, Newt licks his face before he can lean away.

 

They hadn't discussed the scene turning sexual, but then, it wouldn't be the first time Newt's cock has had ideas of its own while sharing the shower, sometimes at very inconvenient times, so Hermann ignores it and rinses Newt off, getting them both toweled dry quickly and efficiently. It had only been perhaps a bit less than halfway hard, anyway, and Hermann doesn't get any protest when he leaves it alone. He gets Newt dressed first, blowdrying and brushing out his hair and patting away any lingering droplets of water from his neck before getting the collar buckled back into place, and finally replacing his glasses.

 

"Go to your bed." He commands, with another snap of his fingers, and Newt returns to the makeshift bed on the living room floor, while Hermann finishes taking care of himself. It's normally easy to navigate their home without his cane, but he's had too much of a workout to leave it behind, and that's enough to make him glad he's not in the market for a real dog-- especially not one as big as Newt, and in need of full-body shampooing. He finds himself leaning more heavily than usual on his cane as he heads back to the kitchen, grabbing the box of graham 'dog treats' and the peanut butter and taking them back to the dismantled sofa.

 

He hand-feeds Newt five of the treats, dipped in peanut butter, and even lets Newt lick his fingers, despite the slimy saliva-and-peanut-butter residue that's left behind. He can wash up after, but he had promised a special treat, and he runs his clean hand through Newt's hair as he feeds him. That part feels good, at least... Newt's freshly-shampooed locks are soft, with no product to detract from the silky texture, and Hermann loses himself in the moment, letting Newt lick a little extra peanut butter off of his fingers. As long as he has to wash up after anyway...

 

When he finally stops the petting, Newt sits back on his haunches and looks up at Hermann, calm but with a question in his eyes.

 

"Settle down while I tidy up. There's a good boy." Hermann coos, waiting for Newt to flop over. He rubs his belly again, with his clean hand, rucking up the tee shirt a little and tickling at the tattooed skin beneath. He'd like to keep on tickling until Newt is squirming and panting, but he's not about to do that just after feeding him... Instead he lets Newt really settle, giving his ribs a gentle thump before he gets to his feet to clean up after dinner.

 

Brushing Newt's teeth for him after that is a new challenge that Hermann doesn't think he's up to... tooth brushing will have to wait until Newt is ready to come down out of puppy-space. Hermann gets the kitchen to the point where he's comfortable leaving the rest 'til morning, and whistles for Newt to follow him back to the bedroom, patting the foot of the bed.

 

Newt hops up and curls himself into a ball there, and Hermann sits heavily, his lower back aching. There's a tremor down the back of one thigh, a shaky weak feeling that he'd been doing his best to ignore, but he's tired now... He calls Newt up to cuddle with him, and the compliance is instant. Hermann has to take his glasses and place them on the nightstand before they can be skewed and bent out of shape or pressed uncomfortably into Newt's face and Hermann's shoulder.

 

"You're so, so good..." Hermann groans, holding Newt tight. There's a wave of pain, and he rides it out because Newt is in his arms depending on him, and the high he gets from Newt may not have passed any clinical trials, but some nights it's the only thing that does the job. "Such a good boy... I love you so much, my good boy, I'm so proud of you. You were so good, yes you were. And now you're such a _clean_ boy, that was a good bath, wasn't it? And now... now we should get ready for bed."

 

Newt whimpers and burrows into his arms.

 

"What is it, my good boy?"

 

"I don't want to be done." Newt whines.

 

"Hush, dear thing. I have enjoyed having 'Wolfy', but I need my Newton back before I can fall asleep tonight. We won't take the collar off until you're ready, but can you start coming back to me?"

 

There's another doggy whimper, and then a little sigh, and then Newt lifts his head, blinking.

 

"Okay." He agrees.

 

"Thank you. There's a good boy." He scratches under Newt's chin with a little laugh. "We'll ease you back, you don't need to give it up all at once, do you? But you do need to be able to brush your own teeth. Go on and use the bathroom, do everything you need to. Drink some water for me. Then we'll do our scene breakdown."

 

Newt cuddles him a little longer before he can pull himself away to finish getting ready for bed. Hermann makes sure he's bundled up with his special blanket and a cuddly toy before he leaves to take care of his own nighttime routine, and he returns to find Newt somewhat sleepy, and mostly smiling.

 

"There, that's not so bad, is it?" Hermann smiles, sliding back into bed, and gathering Newt up to his chest. "There's my Newton."

 

Kisses are exchanged, tasting of mint more than of peanut butter, and Newt rolls over after, to have Hermann spooned up around him.

 

"I'll be okay. It's, uh... it's easier being a dog. Everything's easy. You just take care of me and all I have to do is love you..."

 

"And you will have that again when you need it." Hermann promises, kissing the back of Newt's neck, his lips gentle there.

 

"And... I kind of like to be cute. Just for you. Not, like, all the time."

 

"Well, you are that."

 

"And I like some of the other stuff, but it's more... It's how simple it is. I like that." Newt yawns.

 

"Well then so do I. You sound tired. Shall we discuss it further in the morning? Perhaps over breakfast in bed?"

 

Newt grins, wriggling back into Hermann and hugging the arm around his middle. "Yes, please."

 

"Then sleep." Hermann kisses his neck again. "There's my good boy..."


	13. Touch II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> okay, so, this is kind of a weird one
> 
> i'd like a post-movie thing where
> 
> they just touch each other, like, lie down somewhere or stand somewhere and just slowly, methodically -- or in newt's case, manically -- put their hands all over each other's bodies and breathe the same air
> 
> bonus 1: it's not primarily sexual, although that could be an element for sure  
> bonus 2: yeah they're in love but they also love each other and if you could write something that makes conventional [str8] ideas about relationships really strained i'd love that  
> bonus 3: newt is trans, personal headcanon
> 
> \---
> 
> I really love this prompt and it's an old one so I don't know if the prompter will ever find this or if they're even still in the fandom, but... I really hope they are and do! Bonuses 1 and 3 will definitely be filled, dunno how I'm doing on 2 though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not related to the previous chapter titled 'Touch'

"Can I touch you tonight?" Newt asks, his voice hot against the shell of Hermann's ear, and yet despite the intimacy of his asking, the need in his voice, there's no real lust in the tone of the question.

 

"You can touch me any night." Hermann promises, his hand going to the small of Newt's back to keep him close, to keep the warmth of Newt right there against him.

 

In fact, Newt does. They've slept in a close tangle since the closing of the breach, since the rekindling of their love for each other, since each discovered he'd never been alone, since a hundred secrets had been laid bare in an instant between them. Newt means something more, though, Hermann can tell.

 

There's still work to be done, compiling and editing and reporting, Newt doing his best to burn through all the samples that he can before there are no more while Hermann does his best to arrange his work in ways that others will be able to understand. Hermann's quarters in the Shatterdome have become their quarters, Hermann's nicer bed and nicer bathroom. After a moment holding each other, they return to their own sides of the lab, to get through what they can, but neither lingers when five o'clock rolls around. Instead, they leave the 'dome to eat, and return to the dome and to their bedroom feeling satisfied.

 

Well, their hunger satisfied, where food is concerned. There is still something deeper to sate. What exactly, Hermann can't even say, only that he'd sensed it in Newt's question, and felt it building through the evening.

 

They've made love, passion-fueled, fumbled towards a mutual orgasm in a tangle of blankets in a dimly-lit room, too caught up in kisses to pay much attention to anything but driving towards that end. That isn't what Newt is asking for.

 

"I know you have kind of an idea..." He bites his lip, just briefly. "From drifting or from-- I want you to actually get to know my body, though. I'm not used to that. Kind of... kind of a do-it-fast-with-the-lights-off guy, before. But it, like, it hits me. I'm not a kid struggling with how he feels about his body anymore? I mean, I actually mostly love my bod. Nobody's perfect, but I put a lot of work into making me the person I want to be, and I don't think I look bad, I think I actually kind of rock. Even naked. And I'm with you now, and you've seen and felt things no one else has before, and I trust you completely right now... so it's kind of like, you know? I don't know why I didn't do this right away. Okay, well, I kind of know. I mean, force of habit-- Well, if you can call it habit, I haven't gotten laid in years anyway, work-- Sorry, I promise I'm going somewhere and I'll shut up soon, I just-- It's not even a sex thing, I just want to show you everything I have, and I want to see everything you have. And I want us to take time, and explore each other, because there are things not even drifting can do, and I want all of it with you."

 

"No one has ever considered by body the desirable part of me." Hermann's mouth quirks up at one corner, his hands moving to Newt's waist. He gives a little nod, and Newt cups his cheek in return.

 

"You're all desirable parts. I want to know you."

 

The way he says the word 'know' sends a shiver down Hermann's spine that shocks him. There's suggestion there, yes, in spite of it being 'not a sex thing', but it isn't that. It's a deeper intimacy. Newt wants to understand the world, as a scientist, and Hermann has seen him examining the things he wants to know about deeply, and he suddenly feels the focus of all that laser-guided attention, like a sample laid bare on the slab, all his layers peeled back and pinned into place, to best let Newt examine his depths.

 

It's a feeling he wants more of, terrifying and beautiful as anything yet. He understands Newt's love of the kaiju in this moment, even without the aid of drifting, the terrible want a man can have for something tremendous and capable of tearing him apart. This love could do that if they let it, and Hermann would only be grateful to have it take him in its teeth and shake.

 

And Newt will not let it, he trusts in that as well. They've seen and felt too much to fall into the trap of old patterns. He doesn't think that having drifted will make things all sunshine and roses, but he believes in them. He knows enough now to have an idea about working things out, and to know he will work them out, whatever it takes, if it means keeping Newton in his life.

 

"And you will." Hermann promises, turning to kiss Newt's palm. "Undress me. I'm yours."

 

Newt's hands fall upon his clothes like a storm, stripping him to his underthings before pausing, and Newt's eyes are wide as the deep, green sea, and Newt's chest heaves with his breaths, and Newt's lip is pink from being bitten and licked at in his excitement and his focus.

 

"You're exquisite, my dear..." Hermann sighs, reaching out, and Newt laughs softly at him and takes his hand.

 

"That's supposed to be my line." He kisses Hermann's knuckles, releasing his hand and sliding fingers up underneath Hermann's undershirt. "You're beautiful, and I want to touch you all over, and then I-- I'm gonna touch you some more. I might not stop. Like, ever."

 

"That may present challenges down the line, but I am nothing if not up for a challenge." Hermann smirks, lifting his arms to let Newt continue stripping him. "I want to touch you, too."

 

"Good, it's on the agenda." Newt leans in for a kiss, his hands sliding back down Hermann's sides once the undershirt is discarded.

 

He pauses when he hits the elastic band of Hermann's briefs-- hopelessly square tightie whities, and at Hermann's nod, Newt peels them off.

 

"I'm going to inject some color into your underwear collection if that's the best you've got." He teases gently.

 

"I think I have a green pair. I know I have some in grey." Hermann shrugs, and Newt snorts, arms coming up around him.

 

"I am buying you underwear that's fun to wear. For date nights. Then when I get your pants off, it'll be a fun surprise. I mean-- shit, you know what I mean. It's already very fun to get your pants off, but you know. I like color. And it's nice."

 

"Oh? Then do you have a fun surprise for me?" Hermann arches an eyebrow. The texture of Newt's clothing against his bare skin is interesting, but he's eager to move forward.

 

"Not ready yet... still my turn with you." He shakes his head, kissing Hermann's cheek and pulling back. "Can, um... can I ask for a little spin?"

 

Hermann rolls his eyes, but he turns around to let Newt take all of him in. He doesn't think the view from behind can be all that impressive-- certainly not when compared with Newt himself-- but he isn't about to rain on his partner's parade.

 

Newt's hands are everywhere after that, measuring and exploring, until Hermann grabs his arms, leaning heavily on him.

 

"Hermann?" Newt nuzzles at him, instantly concerned at having been stopped.

 

"It's quite all right-- but is there any way we could do this in bed? I left my cane already and I've done a lot of walking tonight..."

 

"Shit, yeah." Newt pulls the covers back, guides Hermann into place with his body pillow to support him before kneeling at his side. "This is better anyway. I can get to all of you."

 

"Leave my socks on, my circulation..."

 

"Okay. I'll get your feet in the shower tomorrow, how's that?" Newt's smile crinkles the skin around his eyes, and his hand closes over Hermann's calf, chafing gently. "The rest of you's okay, right? Room's warm enough?"

 

"Yes, yes. The room is fine. It's really only my toes lately. My hands are doing just fine. There's absolutely nothing to worry about, Newton. I feel wonderful, really. Just a long day on my feet."

 

"Good now?"

 

"Just perfect. Nothing to get in the way of you continuing your explorations." He promises.

 

Newt's hands card through his hair, where it's at its longest, before fingertips play over the shorter fuzz of the undercut, and Hermann closes his eyes as his face is cupped, as Newt's thumbs sweep across his brow and his eyelids and his cheeks and his lips. Kisses follow, soft and light as sunbeams cutting through the fog, and warming Hermann just as well as any sun could. Those sure hands slide down the sides of his neck and over his shoulders, kneading gently and following the cords of his muscles, exploring chest and upper arms, steady in their symmetry until Newt breaks from the pattern to take one hand in both of his.

 

Hermann finds himself relaxing under all the kisses that follow, to each fingertip and knuckle, to the heel and the center of his palm and the back of his hand, to the bones of his wrist and to his pulse. The kisses flutter, hasty and unmoored, all the way up the inside of his forearm, and Hermann lifts his other hand to Newt's hair to calm him.

 

"Hush, dear, hush, you've all night for me." He soothes. "I'm here. I'm yours. That isn't going anywhere."

 

"Sorry." Newt gulps, his mouth pressed to Hermann's skin, delicate, his nose in the crook of Hermann's elbow. "Going slow gets hard. I get--"

 

"I know."

 

"I'll do better."

 

"Whatever speed makes you happy, Newton, as long as you aren't anxious. If slow makes you uncomfortable, there's no need to push yourself, but I don't want that speed coming from your nerves, that's all. This is to make you happy... both of us happy."

 

Newt kisses his arm again, and massages at his hand, then his arm, before switching to the other side, his pace calmer. He massages Hermann's thighs, and touches and kisses his way down Hermann's abdomen, fingertips tracing along ribs, before settling between those two, hands fitting themselves to Hermann's hips.

 

"Wow." He smiles up at Hermann, from the new spot he claims between Hermann's legs. "So this is you."

 

"This is me." Hermann nods, blushing.

 

"I like you." Newt ducks down, brushing a quick kiss to Hermann's penis, still curled soft against his thigh. It's had varying levels of interest in the proceedings, but never so much as to be fully hard-- Newt had been right, it wasn't a sex thing, just a very intimate one-- but it twitches under Newt's lips, just a little. "I love you."

 

"And I love you."

 

The backs of two fingers stroke along it, Newt's expression contemplative, his focus frank but warm. "I hope you're proud of this, because it's a nice one. Can I--?"

 

"Anything you like." Hermann nods, and he appreciates the touch even if it goes nowhere, likes having something gentle and unrushed, with no expectations. He watches Newt's face, as Newt carefully tests the weight of his genitals, and the way everything fits his hold while soft, the warmth and the texture of the skin, and the way that Hermann fills out just a little bit with handling, even without becoming hard.

 

"I just like getting to know you." Newt smiles, and it's without the terrible, beautiful weight behind the word, but that's fine, too. It's warm and sweet, and he helps Hermann to roll over, body pillow supporting him so that he's partly on one side, but tipped just so, his front resting against the pillow and enough of his back open to Newt's hands and lips, searching caresses running down from his shoulder blades, strong hands kneading at his backside and the backs of his thighs, and then back up to the small of his back, easing away cramped pains, helping Hermann's spine to lengthen out again where it had wanted to compress itself over the course of the day.

 

Hermann lets out a low groan, stretching under Newt's hands.

 

"Good?" Newt pauses, his hands hovering over Hermann.

 

"Very. But I think it's about time I explored you."

 

"That's beyond cool." Newt bends low, kisses the back of Hermann's neck, and then they shift together, so that Hermann is on his back once more, and Newt is straddling his legs. "Here, let me-- I just-- Let me?"

 

Hermann nods, resting his hands on Newt's thighs and watching him strip to the waist, before letting his hands roam up bared skin. Newt's belly is soft and warm, and Hermann begins there, tracing the fluid lines of ink across his skin. There are scars, when he reaches Newt's chest, and he explores those, too. Newt displays no discomfort, only pride, as Hermann lovingly continues his explorations. Newt blossoms under the attentions, leaning forward and bracing his hands against the mattress, to make himself easier to reach. Hermann leans up for a kiss as he feels the planes of Newt's back, the lines of him softened by just enough fat. Hermann is sure he would find Newt attractive with more or with less, but the Newt that he knows is the one that exists, and that Newt is pleasant to the touch, his flesh yielding just the perfect little bit before Hermann can feel firm muscle, and he loves that. Newt looks so inviting, with strong, nicely-muscled arms but a gently-rounded belly. Newt's body is exactly right, by Hermann's estimation, and he doesn't intend to hear any arguments otherwise, from anyone.

 

"So far so good?" Newt asks, with a little smile.

 

"So very, very good." Hermann nuzzles their noses together with a smile, loves the way that Newt's whole face lights with it. "May I have the rest of you?"

 

Newt guides Hermann's hand to the button of his jeans, and they kiss, slow and languid, as Hermann gets them open, and as Newt shifts around to get them off.

 

He sits back again when he's done, straddling Hermann's lap once more. Hermann finds himself staring at the soft boxer briefs, printed all over with tiny cartoon hot dogs-- finds himself staring at the bulge at the front.

 

"I thought you hadn't had--"

 

"Oh--" Newt laughs. "Yeah, it's fake. But it's a really good one. Wanna squeeze?"

 

Hermann laughs as well, nodding and cupping a hand over the bulge. It feels real enough, just through the shorts, and Newt has a beautiful air of glee as he works the faux-penis through the fly of his boxer briefs for Hermann to see.

 

"This one's my favorite, but I have a couple. Like, I have a slightly bigger one for when I feel like... the need to strut." He shakes his head, still grinning. "I just like how this one feels. It has a nice weight and it sits right, as long as I've got shorts that are close-fitting enough to keep it in place. Like, I love boxers if I'm just feeling relaxed and I'm okay with not having that weight there, if I'm in slacks or something. With jeans I really like to have something there, you know? Anyway, I'll show you the others sometime. I've got one that works as a stand-to-pee thing if I ever think I might not have any choice but to use a urinal somewhere, but I don't really like it as much? Like, I don't much need it now anyway, it's not actually as comfortable to me as the non-stealth STP I just keep in the bathroom so that we don't have to put the seat down all the time..."

 

"This one is nice." Hermann manages at last. "It feels very real. It looks-- I mean, there's not much variation in 'skin' tone, but aside from that... It's not far from what I pictured, once."

 

"You pictured me with a penis? Wait-- did you picture me naked before I was out to you?" Newt leans in again, grin even wider. "You had it so bad for me! How long have you had a giant crush on me, dude?"

 

"I still have it bad for you." Hermann grabs at Newt's backside, just through his boxer briefs. "On and off since shortly after we began corresponding."

 

"Oh, cool. Same deal."

 

"Yes, I know." He smiles. "Now let me see the flesh and blood you. This is all very nice, and you may introduce me to as many prosthetics as you wish, but I am here to learn your body tonight."

 

Newt shimmies out of his shorts, licking his lips, and Hermann's hands travel up his thighs. He has a glimpse of Newt's sex, through the thick, dark curls, and he parts the hair with a couple of fingers just to have a better look.

 

"Flesh and blood me." Newt licks his lips again, one hand flexing. "I, um... I'd prefer if you'd call it my cock when we're getting down and dirty."

 

"I will call it your cock as often as you like, and under whatever circumstances you dictate." Hermann promises, giving it a little touch, not wanting to tease, but needing to feel, now when he can see it in the light. "And I want to learn all the ways you like to be touched."

 

Newt's vulva is just visible as well, from the angle Hermann has, and he is not sure how to ask what words Newt prefers for that, or if he prefers for it to go unnamed. He will learn how to touch or to avoid touching that as well, though, the more they do this. The more they make love with the lights on and the covers thrown back, too. The skin there is a deeper, duskier pink, and it's attractive in a way Hermann can hardly understand, when he has never thought much of one before. But this is not some mass-marketed pornographic image, and this is not a woman to fumble through faking an attraction to, this is Newton, who makes Hermann's heart beat faster, and all of him is attractive, and the things Hermann wants to do between Newt's thighs are not the things that he's been told he ought to want to do with similarly-configured genitals.

 

He wants to press soft kisses to the skin to know if it is as velvet-soft as it looks, and he wants to feel the slide of Newt against him, and he wants to cup his hand over and just feel, and he wants to look at everything that Newt will show him, and he is not opposed to licking his way inside of him if asked, not in the slightest, he is not opposed to anything Newton might ask of him, but right now, he only wants to appreciate with all his senses everything that Newt gives him.

 

"How are we doing?" Newt asks.

 

"We are doing very well." Hermann promises. "Where may I touch you?"

 

"Dude, anywhere. Everywhere. Um-- not inside. Maybe someday. I'll show you how, it's... I'm kind of picky about it. Like, my philosophy is, I know who I am now, and I'm all for doing anything that feels good, it's just that... only some stuff feels good. A lot of penetration doesn't, for me. But, another time. For now, just..."

 

Hermann nods. "You can guide me, when we get there, if we get there. My heart is set on nothing in particular. I just want to finish learning you for tonight."

 

He lets his hands roam, up inner thighs and over buttocks, and then he lets his touch brush Newt's genitals, paying close attention to the reaction he gets. When he's done there, Newt helps him up, so that they can both have a turn with the bathroom before bed, where they settle naked beneath the blankets and put out the light.

 

"I like your body." Hermann murmurs against Newt's ear. "It... it is yours. You've made it into something that you take pride in, and that is beautiful to me, and you are handsome... and your body is warm, and it fits against mine... It's wonderful to me that I sleep every night with the comfort your body gives to mine. Thank you, for tonight."

 

"Thank you." Newt echoes, squeezing Hermann's arm. "Thank you."


	14. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Someone (could be a soldier at the Shatterdome, or someone at a bar) starts being particularly mean to Hermann, when Newt steps in to defend him, much to Hermann's surprise. And then things happen.
> 
>  
> 
> Or, sometimes Hermann wishes Newt would quit while he's ahead...
> 
> Set post-movie. Hermann winds up defending Newt right back, because... well, things happen.

There are people looking at them from the next table over, and Hermann does his best to ignore the low voices, alcohol-slurred. The reception is in full swing, and while many of the attendees are with the university where they've just wrapped their most recent joint lecture, there's also quite a complement of PPDC scientists-- and Hermann knows that most of those had been backing the Wall of Life in the end. Most who hadn't left the PPDC when the Jaeger program lost funding, after all. He doesn't expect to overhear anything flattering from that lot.

 

Judging by Newt's sudden reaction, though, something's been said that he considers beyond the pale.

 

"Just ignore them." Hermann cautions, but he can already tell Newt isn't hearing him. His face is reddening, his nostrils flared, and his eyes are wide and locked onto the raucous table next to them.

 

"Did you hear--"

 

"Newton." He hisses, reaching across their table to touch Newt's arm. His fist is resting on the table, clenched and flexing in quick bursts, and Hermann can practically feel the way Newt's nails must cut into his palm. Newt's attention whips back to him, eyes still wide, though with a startled confusion more than a death glare. "Whatever it is, we've already won. Not the wall."

 

"It wasn't about the wall, they're whispering about you." Newt hisses back, eyes darting back over to the nearby group, and there's a burst of laughter with a hard, jeering edge at a joke that Hermann hadn't caught.

 

"Whatever it is, I can promise you, I have heard it all." He pats Newt's hand before withdrawing his touch. "Would you like another drink?"

 

"I just... Those guys..." Newt looks back and forth a few times, his anger twisting up inside him, his expression lost.

 

"We've already won." Hermann repeats, using his cane to help lever himself up from his chair. "Sit. If they come around with desserts, why don't you have something you like? I'll be right back."

 

He has to pass by the next table to get to the open bar, but the topic of conversation has moved on to someone he doesn't know. It's a relief, Newt will be able to tune that out-- or at least, he won't consider it a personal insult. Since drifting, things have been... strange, but not bad. Their emotional lives have intermingled, and Newt seems to feel things on Hermann's behalf more strongly than Hermann feels them himself. He'd experienced Newt's emotions firsthand-- or at least it had seemed that way-- when they were hooked in together, and he knows that they are raw, turned up to eleven, that Newt cannot regulate his emotional experiences the way that most adults learn to, the way you need to learn to to function fully out in the real world. For Newt, every injustice is grave, every joy or sorrow absolute... Something about that hurts, when he can't wrap Newt up safe forever. Certainly not from himself. At the same time, it's something he loves, now that he understands. Now that he has felt as Newt feels, he knows the effort Newt actually puts into behaving. He's not a willful tornado blowing through and disrupting Hermann's calm existence, he is a storm door that cannot quite hold-- except for Newt, the storm is on the inside, and try as he might, every so often that door blows open and the storm gets out, but it isn't for lack of trying. He's crafted a persona to make his inner life look effortless, someone too cool to care what anyone else thinks, but Hermann's seen him struggle to keep some things in, when he's known them to be inappropriate.

 

He's also seen Newt fail at that, sometimes with spectacularly bad timing.

 

The bar is just to the other side of the loud table, not a long walk-- and after a trying day, that's something Hermann appreciates. There's only one person ahead of him, a woman in a red gown who wastes a moment flirting with the bartender before moving along so that Hermann can order Newt's shirley temple. He hears a loud snigger behind him, and ignores it as best he can. What he can't ignore is the following shout.

 

"Hey, asshole!"

 

"Oh dear... Newton--" Hermann groans, hobbling over.

 

There's a foot he doesn't see. He loses his cane, his momentum, and Newt's drink, rolling an ankle and just barely catching himself on the back of a chair, and his head is pounding, everything is spinning as Newt gets him back to his own seat, as his cane is pressed into his hands again. He knows there are voices, and there are people staring, but with the flare of pain in his hip and back, and the shock to his joints from having to catch himself, and just his continuing surprise at having been tripped-- deliberately?-- at a black tie function for academics rather than secondary school, he can't take in all the specifics.

 

"What's your fucking problem?" Newt screams, and it's the first thing to pierce the pained white fog in Hermann's brain, as Newt moves away from him and to the table.

 

"It was an accident, you'll have to excuse him, he's had one too many--" One of the scientists at the next table says, with a little laugh meant to placate.

 

Newt isn't placated. "Hey-- first, fuck you, because I heard what you said earlier. Second, don't you dare apologize for this total bastard, do you think I'm blind or do you think I'm stupid? You want a minute to take your digs at me? I. Saw. Him. And I saw you both laughing over it, you've been laughing all night, well you're done laughing now!"

 

"Dr. Geiszler, you're making a scene." The other man stands.

 

"Your fucking friend assaulted my partner!"

 

Hermann can see the tendons stand out at the side of Newt's neck, where he has just a quarter-view of him, the angry sweep of his hand, the blotchy red that's spread from his face down his throat and to the tips of his ears. He can see flecks of spittle fly.

 

'Partner' conjures up a very specific set of images, and he wonders how far the rumor will spread, whether anyone will know that Newt had meant they'd drifted together, and not...

 

He can't push himself back up again to put a bodily stop to it, when Newt takes a swing. He hits the other man square in the chest, and by the time campus security is separating everyone, Newt already has a black eye.

 

"I'm pressing charges!" The man snarls, and Hermann pushes himself up in spite of the pain.

 

The pain is visible-- he winces and leans heavily on his cane, and nearly falls. He wouldn't be surprised if his face was paper-white where Newt's had been red. There's a hush around them when he takes a weak step forward.

 

"I would be more than happy to see you and your friend in court. I don't care how much you've had to drink, behaving like children and trying to trip me was beyond juvenile, now I've emergency appointments to schedule with the nearest physical therapist covered by my insurance, I may not make my next lecture, and all because you're a bunch of pathetic fools who can't stand the fact that your work will be remembered as a wasteful folly that ended more lives than it ever saved, while we saved the world. And it wasn't enough for you to call me names behind my back, I suppose? You go ahead and press charges, I will bury you." He sneers, raising his chin. "You and your little friends have caused a scene. If you ask my opinion, you didn't get half what you deserve for _deliberately provoking_ a war hero--"

 

"A kaiju lover who spent the war in the Shatterdomes--"

 

"A kaiju _expert_ who was on the ground during the last hours of the war, nearly losing his life to a category four so that he could do what needed to be done to win this war." He snaps. He doesn't mention the post-traumatic stress. That isn't something he wants to share, unless the matter does go to court. It's Newt's business unless it becomes relevant to his legal defense. And his own.

 

Newt is at his elbow, glaring daggers across at the others, an arm around Hermann, and Hermann doesn't really mind if people form their own opinions of what 'partners' means...

 

He wonders if maybe they couldn't be onto something.

 

They leave the reception and return to their hotel, where they wind up rubbing arnica gel into each other's skin, Newt helping Hermann into his pyjamas before climbing into his bed with him, a habit since they'd drifted.

 

"You should have let it go." Hermann tuts softly, holding Newt's hand.

 

"I was going to, before that asshole tripped you."

 

"I'm sure he didn't know it would go like that. Probably I was supposed to stumble a bit and maybe spill your drink on my shirt, and they'd laugh it up."

 

"I mean, what if you fell on the floor, on the glass, and it broke?"

 

"Well, none of that happened."

 

"They shouldn't have been treating you like that. I don't care how much of it is because they're jealous, either, because I-- I heard-- I mean, it comes off like they're just messing with you because of the cane."

 

"Which I have had since I was fifteen, and there are no mean things they can have said that actual teenagers haven't already said about me and to me. Newton... I appreciate where you are coming from, but I need for you to be careful." He leans forward, until his lips touch the very edge of Newt's recently-formed bruise, only barely. "Can you do that for me? Can you let the talk roll off of your back?"

 

"I was!" Newt yelps, defensive. "I didn't get up until they hurt you!"

 

"Hush... come here, then." Hermann offers, lifting his arm for Newt to scoot under. "And we'll talk about it in the morning."


	15. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> I saw the movie today and I really loved the character of Newton. He's sarcastic and weird and cute, so naturally I want to see him beat up and hurting.
> 
> I'm a horrible person but please help me out with my horrible person needs. Anything at all, so long as Newt is left ruffled and hurt in some way. I'm thinking maybe something to do with Hannibal and his cronies but it can literally be anything at all. All the better if someone (maybe Hermann?) is there to comfort and take care of him.
> 
>  
> 
> I will offer my firstborn to anyone who can fill this in the slightest of ways.

Newt preferred not to think of it as 'sneaking out of the Shatterdome'-- after all, he was an adult, he could go as he pleased. He wasn't even totally slipping out without letting anyone know where he was going!

 

Well, that he was going, anyway. He'd asked Hermann if he wanted any food brought back from outside, which was all the indication necessary that he was leaving the 'dome for a little while. Hermann didn't need to know where he was going-- he'd only worry. Newt didn't want Hermann to worry.

 

And it wasn't like not going was an option. This was his last chance! If he even had a chance left-- he couldn't be sure. With Hannibal Chau out of the picture, Newt had no idea what would be left behind... would his people have scattered to the winds, gone into non-kaiju fields of work with the breach closed? Who would have stepped in to fill the void? Who would have anything he could study from the fetus that had tried to kill him?

 

He tried not to think about seeing it swallow Chau, and he tried not to think about how Chau's closest cronies might have felt about scavenging the beast that ate their boss. Sorrow? Anger? Relief? He didn't know what kind of relationship Chau had to his underlings, just that the guy had shoved a knife up his nostril and thrown him to the wolves, only to waltz back in like Newt still needed him. Well, he'd come in handy, Newt guessed, but he was still sure he could have had people from the PPDC help him, if they would have just given him people to cordon off the area and investigate the kaiju, instead of handing everything off to a crime lord.

 

Newt did still have a promissory note, on PPDC stationery, with official stamp. He had no idea if it will be honored... the stamp isn't exactly a signature, and even if it was, without Pentecost... But it was the best Newt had.

 

He ducked into the shop, not sure what to expect-- not sure if there would be anything left at all. It only took a moment for everything to go wrong.

 

For starters, Hannibal Chau _wasn't_ out of the picture.

 

Hannibal Chau was very alive, none too happy looking, and looming over Newt-- Newt, bruised and shaken, forced into a chair and held at gunpoint by the apparently-still-employed lackeys.

 

One of them leaned over to bark a question at him, and for a long moment, Newt wondered if the guy was speaking Cantonese, until his brain caught up and deciphered the question.

 

Chau's shoe. This was all about Chau's shoe? Newt had no idea where it was. He'd grabbed it, true, but he hadn't kept possession of it long, it had been dropped and forgotten, and someone had probably picked it up to try and pry off and sell the gold, so why hadn't one of Chau's goons taken it with them when they beat it?

 

But that wasn't really the answer they were looking for.

 

They accepted it, eventually-- once it became clear that neither creative threats nor the application of force was going to change his story-- and Newt found himself on the streets of Hong Kong, weaving his way in what he hoped was the direction of the Shatterdome.

 

He still stopped to get Hermann's dumplings. Maybe he could claim he was jumped? Except that if he said it happened after he got food, why would his muggers not take Hermann's lunch, and if it had happened first, why would he have had the money to get food?

 

He didn't have a satisfactory answer there, either, couldn't come up with one by the time he staggered into the lab once more, clutching his bag from the food stall.

 

"Where were yo--" Hermann stopped short the moment he turned to see Newt. "Newton! Where were you?"

 

He alit, graceful as anything, from his spot on the ladder, pocketing the small camera he'd been using to get all of his work photographed. Newt didn't understand that-- it had already been copied down into the computer, Hermann was just weird about having the visuals or something. There was a hitch in his stride as he crossed the room, but he didn't allow it to slow him down, not until he reached Newt.

 

"You're bruised! You're shaking!'

 

"I got your dumplings?"

 

"Sod the dumplings, what happened to you?"

 

Newt let out a helpless giggle, struck by the sudden mental image of sodomizing the dumplings-- they weren't really big enough for that, but then, he didn't think Hermann would appreciate the humor of it anyway.

 

"I'm fine." He tried, but Hermann wasn't having it, judging by the look on his face as he moved Newt over to sit in his desk chair.

 

Hermann fussed around a bit in the little 'kitchenette', where he made his cups of tea and kept a first aid kit, and Newt closed his eyes, trying to will his head to quit throbbing and spinning. Something cool and slightly damp touched one of the worse bruises, and Newt let out a pitiful little groan, but didn't flinch away from the Neosporin and arnica gel that followed.

 

Hermann brought him a glass of water, brought it all the way to Newt's lips and stroked his hair as he sipped, his reproachful tutting giving way to sympathetic hums with time and touch. Only then did Newt relay the story, freezing up whenever Hermann reacted too strongly, carrying on only once Hermann was able to find some calm for the both of them.

 

"Well, then they won't try anything like that again, will they?" Hermann sighed, his lips against Newt's and, held close in one of his own. "And if they ever do, they'll have the PPDC to deal with, mark my words. Look... today... There really isn't anything that needs doing today. Come and have a lie down with me? You look like you could use it..."

 

A part of Newt wanted to argue, out of pure contrariness, but with his mission a bust, he had nothing compelling to do in the lab... and he did hurt. The bruises, the arm that had been wrenched in forcing him down into the chair, his legs and feet from all the walking... Newt was definitely sore and ready for a nap-- provided Hermann was ready to share it with him. And from the sound of it, he was.

 

 


End file.
